


Borrowed Blank

by Dreamfang



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 16:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17348774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamfang/pseuds/Dreamfang
Summary: To each other, Jackass and White made a promise: that they would reunite at the end of the machine war. But after the fall of YoRHa, White was nowhere to be found, except as data on a lone server. Of course, Jackass wasn’t the type to let fate decide what happened.





	Borrowed Blank

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariosto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariosto/gifts).



> Thanks to In a Quandary for beta'ing!  
> Late Secret Santa gift for ariosto. This is based on one of the ideas we conversed about.  
> I hope you enjoy the story, and leave a comment, if you'd like to.

Normally, Jackass was not one to dabble in the established cycle of life and death. However, since her latest data raid on a machine server, she was obligated to make an exception.

By some sick blessing, said server contained partial data of White’s personality and memories. Yet without YoRHa – which fell exactly one year ago today – or spare android bodies, there was no reliable means of bringing new androids into existence. Jackass therefore fell back into her darker engineering ways, where nothing mattered in the pursuit of progress. 

Before her now stood an android, the amalgamation of interwoven YoRHa and Resistance components. It was the product of lost time and work without respite.

Jackass wiped her bare hands against her bandaged torso, removing any excess coolant and vital fluids. In theory, there should be no physical issues. In practise, it merely required an activation signal.

A sense of unease grew within Jackass as she typed out the command in the nearby terminal, fingers hesitating on the return key. What if it didn’t work? Or worse, the body short-circuited?

Last time she made something like this, it was by fusing two Resistance androids into a single entity. It was easy to splice the cables together and alter their coding to accept the new pathways. Here, she couldn’t guarantee that White would even wake up, much less move.

Jackass gritted her teeth and exhaled a sharp breath. A copy of White’s data was safe in the terminal, and it would feed through the cables connected between the terminal and her creation’s circuitry. If this experiment failed, so be it. She’d just have to find another solution. The data would remain intact until then.

She tapped the enter key, causing the screen to flash with continuous lines, which outline the start-up processes and statuses of various components. Jackass skimmed the tracelog in case any major errors appeared. She mostly understood the YoRHa-specific syntax as a result of familiarity (her status as ex-YoRHa was an open secret to a handful of androids alive today).

An eternity seemed to pass before the line ‘All Systems Green’ appeared. Jackass’ attention immediately turned toward the android, scrutinising its sluggish movements for anything familiar. 

“Can you hear me?” Jackass asked.

The android rose to its feet, then went still. Jackass moved to get a better view, trying to anticipate what capabilities it possessed. She couldn’t discern any movements from its torso or legs. (To preserve some form of modesty, she had given it basic clothes). Therefore, she raised her gaze, looking into its mismatched eyes.

“Is uh... everything working? No static, or errors?” Jackass continued.

The android continued to stare at the dusty floor, its optics glazed.

She waved her hand in front of its face. “Do you remember me?”

‘White’ didn’t seem to register the gesture at all. Surely it would’ve provoked some kind of reaction: a twitch, an adjustment of the jaw, something...

Jackass took hold of White’s wrist, pulling it gingerly toward herself. White’s shoulder shifted along with the movement, but it was far from an indication of sentience.

“Your motor systems are fine. That’s a good sign, I guess.”

Unthinking, Jackass pulled White’s hand to her cheek in some semblance of affection. The rough, synthetic skin felt foreign, more akin to a machine if anything. Was she really expecting nostalgia to bring back White’s gentler touch?

“But it’s just that, systems...” Jackass shook her head. Her statement couldn’t be truer. 

Nobody was alive in there.

With a heavy breath, Jackass moved to the open command prompt and terminated its runtime, causing the android to slump back against its chair. It wasn’t alive, except for the fact that current flowed through its circuits. This made the choice easier, knowing that it harboured no thoughts – as itself or White.

It truly was a waste of time and resources. The data Jackass found wasn’t enough to power a functional android.

She raised her palms, inspecting them. The signs of neglect were everywhere: countless cuts and half-assed repairs. These were the same hands that had failed to kill, and now they failed to create.

Things just hadn’t been the same since she learned of White’s death. The Resistance became nothing more than an afterthought, and vengeance had driven her to wipe out entire machine colonies alone just to feel something else – something more than impotency. Only once – no, twice – had she assaulted an android. Herself, in an attempt to alleviate the empty, decaying feeling within her, and Anemone. She was certain that the latter attack was fuelled by delirium, but she still didn’t have the faintest clue about what happened.

It was with these darker thoughts that Jackass contemplated what to do next. She was certain that she would fail if she tried something so complex as building an android again, and there was no way in hell she would use  _ machines _ of all things to revive White. But the process couldn’t involve anything so primitive as terminals either. 

Wasn’t there something else that could accommodate sentience?

Jackass wandered over to the scrap pile on the opposite side of the room. She had eliminated the task of searching for parts by hoarding whatever seemed useful. Maybe looking at her collection would give her inspiration.

She picked up a bright red, if rusty pipe from the pile, and held it out for inspection. It contained a few cables that kept the mechanical claws from detaching; they were likely used to pilot the appendage. 

With a frustrated growl, Jackass hurled the pipe back onto the scrap pile, breaking the frailer components upon impact. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes.

Then the answer came to her: A Pod. How could she forget the damned micro-computers of YoRHa? They weren't as complex as an android, but could at least accept personality data. 

Did they even exist still?

Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out. She’d have to swing by the ever-so-fortunate Resistance camp and see if they were in contact with any active YoRHa units (preferably 9S, since she knew for a fact that he had a Pod from their last encounter).

Giving another scoff at her failed creation, Jackass stalked off, starting her trek to the Resistance camp.

“What a pain,” she muttered.

* * *

The Resistance Camp was a better sight compared to Jackass’ previous visit. All of the debris had been cleared out, allowing restoration of the dwellings back into liveable condition. There also seemed to be more androids about, carrying out their business as usual.

Jackass noticed a rising number of glances in her direction. She glared back at them, causing them to avert their gaze. However, one observer didn’t falter: YoRHa’s very own unit 2B, whose arms were supporting a storage crate larger than herself. White had often spoken of 2B’s incredible fighting prowess and impeccable record (though, Jackass would hear regret in her voice). It was ironic to see a specialised killer reduced to something so mundane as moving furniture.

In this case, it worked to Jackass’ benefit: if 2B was here, then 9S wasn’t far off. The two were known to be inseparable.

Soon enough, she spotted the scanner leaning against a terminal, conversing with Anemone of all people. Just her luck.

Jackass walked over to them, eager to get this over and done with. The sooner she had the Pod, the sooner she could get back to work.

Anemone noticed her long before she was within conversational range. Her eyes softened with what seemed like... pity? It wasn’t easy to recognise micro-expressions.

“And after the desert has been restored again,“ 9S said, turning his head, “you could send—” He cut himself off, his face contorting in bewilderment, as though he was unable to comprehend what he was seeing. “Jac—whoa...”

Jackass ignored his reaction. “Got a spare Pod?”

9S cleared his throat as he brushed some nonexistent dust from his shorts. “W-what do you need a Pod for?”

“Got some data. Need to put it into a Pod,” Jackass shrugged. “Figured you might have a spare.”

“You’ve made complex machines. What about those? Don’t they have enough computing power?”

“Not the same.” Jackass sighed, crossing her arms with a grimace. “Look, it’s more than lifeless input-output crap. Gonna need something a little bit smarter.”

“You’re not experimenting again, are you?” Anemone took this opportunity to interject.

Jackass couldn’t help the scowl that arose on her face. “Why do you care?”

“You’re not someone I want to lose, Jackass.” Anemone pointed towards Jackass’ abdomen. “I’m concerned that you haven’t mended your wounds, or even replaced those bandages at all.”

Jackass paused. The few times Anemone had ordered her around, she questioned most of Jackass’ unconventional methods. Naturally, Jackass had interpreted this as an indirect demand to go away, take her work elsewhere.

So why was Anemone suddenly worried?

Jackass glanced down at her body. Then realisation sunk in. The few rags wrapped over her shirt were darkly stained from age, blood, and other unknown liquids.

It was the only visible evidence of her inability to kill herself. Or to meet White, wherever she was. Either reason worked.

“Maybe I got a bit distracted,” Jackass responded in a careless tone. “Fact is, I ain’t dead yet.”

She turned her head. It was preferable to watch the Resistance’s mechanic repair a circuit board than endure further questions on her decrepitude.

Maybe it was a mistake to come here. The nearby androids were all on edge. Hell, Jackass probably looked like a dead android walking. A feral, even. Held together by sheer will and poorly mended wounds. Yet here she was, interrupting their  _ leader _ for something so insignificant as an over-glorified box.

“Um... you mentioned data.” 

It was 9S who had piped up. He was fidgeting with the leather of his gloves, ostensibly anxious. “I could check its integrity and useable information before we talk about Pods.”

Without a word, Jackass produced a small data key from her pocket. It contained White’s original data from the server.

“Here,” she placed the key in 9S’ waiting hand, “don’t poke around too much.”

“With Pod 153, it won’t take long. It should mostly be data comparisons.” 9S waved a blank holo-screen into existence. “Either it’s complete enough to stand alone, or a Pod’s default personality will fill the blanks.”

He beckoned his Pod closer and gave it the data key. Pod 153 performed a scan, then sent chunks of text to a second holo-screen. With a smile, 9S turned his attention to the interfaces, now immersed in his own space. Occasionally, he would use a finger to guide his eyes within the denser data blocks.

It bothered Jackass how easily he could slip into his own world unperturbed. Then again, unlike Jackass, he actually had a reason to live and enjoy life. The one he cared for was alive.

She dismissed the thought; now was not the time to dwell on such things. To occupy her mind, she focused on reading the backward texts instead.

“If you don’t mind, I have a question,” Anemone said after a period of silence.

She gestured at a chair around a nearby table. Jackass had a feeling Anemone probably wouldn’t let her go without making sure that she was alright, or at the very least, that she presented no danger to other androids.

It was so easy to care when one was free of pain.

“Alright.” 

Jackass kept up the same pace as Anemone as they moved to the indicated spot. Whatever Anemone wished to interrogate out of Jackass, she didn’t want 9S overhearing it. Perhaps it was of a private nature?

“What do you wanna know?”

Anemone’s green eyes were intent upon hers. “Is this about White again?”

A personal nature, then. And boy, was she blunt about it. Jackass tensed at the prospect of how the conversation would evolve from here. It wasn’t like she could turn around and leave. Not yet.

“What’s gotten you so curious?”

“You’re obsessing again.” Anemone’s voice took on a solemn tone. “This time, it’s causing you to literally break down.”

“Don’t—”

“You’re suffering,” Anemone interrupted, raising her hand to forestall Jackass, “I know that. You don’t have to—“

“What, be alone anymore?” Jackass snapped. She was sick of rehashing the same damned conversation over and over. “You think that some other android can magically help me? That I can somehow turn out okay again under your...  _ kindness _ ?” She spat out the word as though it were a particularly vile invective.

Then she slammed her fist against the concrete table, gritting her teeth as a surge of electric pain shot up her arm. “Kindly fuck off. You don’t know what suffering is.”

Anemone responded by shifting her hand to her hip – rather closer to her gun holster, Jackass couldn’t help but notice. “What is it, then?”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jackass pulled her arm back. It unnerved her how patient Anemone could be. Any other android would’ve drawn their weapon, or just sent her away outright.

“You belong here,” she explained, not meeting Anemone’s gaze. “You have androids who care and work well together. If you told them to jump, they’d ask how high.

“What your Resistance called madness, White understood.” A weak laugh escaped Jackass. “She’s probably the only one who ever understood. And she’s dead now. Nobody knows her and nobody gives a fucking damn.”

“It’s been years since White was in charge here,” Anemone argued. “You were the closest to her. I doubt anyone else could’ve compared.”

“It’s been five years since Rose was here too. Wasn’t it the same?”

“I’ve learned since then,” was all Anemone said.

“Fine,” Jackass growled, crossing her arms, “stay in your safe zone. I’m making good on my promise to White. And it sure as hell ain’t bothering your camp.”

Anemone nodded, her expression shifting into sombreness. “I really hope that Pod brings you solace, Jackass.”

Of course it would. The Pod was the closest thing to White that she was going to get at this rate. At least she was making an effort to right the situation, rather than resigning herself to whatever crap life decided to throw at her.

Conversation concluded, Jackass made her way back to 9S.

The scanner hastily turned back to his holo-screens (she wouldn’t be surprised if the outburst had sparked his curiosity). Pod 153 was hovering idle above his shoulder. In all likelihood, it has finished its task.

“You’ve definitely got enough data,” 9S murmured, handing the key over.

“And the Pod?” Jackass reminded him as she pocketed the key. “I’ll pay whatever you want, even if all I’m getting are the base components.”

9S dismissed her offer with a shake of his head. “No, we have a spare. But I’ll have to speak to 2B first. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

“Thanks. I’d prefer if you could drop it off at my place. I don’t really wanna come back here again.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jackass observed that Anemone was still watching them, though she had yet to move from the table. The Resistance leader had probably given up on Jackass, allowing fate to run its course.

“Yeah, should be alright if 2B agrees.”

Jackass shook the thought away. There was more important things to think about other than hypothetical statements.

“Good enough for me.”

* * *

For once, somebody kept their promise without any complications.

Within three days of Jackass’ request, 9S and 2B had come by with the Pod. Although its silver chassis contained a number of blemishes, 9S assured her it was in good working condition.

Thinking back on it, Jackass probably should’ve tested it while they were still around instead of taking him at his word. Half an hour had passed with Jackass just staring at the motionless Pod, chin resting on her hands.

“C’mon, Pod,” Jackass muttered as she reached out to touch its shell.

The Pod felt warm, and the humming of its internal mechanisms vibrated against its chassis. She couldn’t tell if the heat was its default temperature, or the Pod was stuck somewhere in the start up process, and overheating as a result.

The latter possibility caused dread to rise up in her gut. She was so  _ close _ . White was  _ right there. _ What else was she missing? What else could she do to speed this up? Was there even a problem to fret over?

A slight movement brought Jackass’ attention back to the Pod. Small claws dragged softly along the wooden table, then its frame tilted upright. Jackass retracted her hand so it could rest properly on its metal arms.

“Configuration complete. Report: All systems nominal,” it droned in a too-familiar voice.

Jackass released a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. Despite its robotic speech pattern, it sounded like White.

“Welcome back, White,” Jackass greeted, her own voice shaking.

She shut her eyes in an effort to alleviate the sting prickling at her eyelids. Later, there would be plenty of time to express her feelings once she was certain that everything was fine.  _ If _ they were fine.

“This Pod has no assignment.” White took to the air, hovering close to the table’s surface. “Query: Are you the designated unit?”

Jackass blinked her eyes open as she rose from her seat. It seemed as though she had to get through whatever the Pod wanted first.

“Yeah. It’s me, Jackass.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Do you remember me?”

“Report: ‘Jackass’ appears over 600 times in this unit’s records. Data suggests that ‘Jackass’ is an acquaintance to ‘White’, the original owner of said data.”

“Hold on,” Jackass shook her head, “it’s your data, White. I gave it back to you. Is something wrong with your systems?”

“All systems are fine.”

Jackass scratched at the back of her head, trying to think of a solution. Clearly, the Pod was using White’s data, otherwise it would default to its pre-programmed voice. It could access White’s memories, and maybe feelings to an extent.

But where was White herself?

“What’s your name?” Jackass questioned, hoping that  _ that _ would correct the personality.

“This Pod’s name has been set as ‘Pod 253’.”

Jackass frowned, confused by its choice. The Pod just acknowledged its data as belonging to White, Jackass gave it everything it needed to  _ become _ White, and 9S had advised there was enough data to override the default personality completely.

Why then, was there still a disconnect in the information?

“Okay, okay.” 

Jackass twirled some of her dark, matted hair around her finger. Despite her rising unease, she forced herself to stay calm.

“What does White mean to you?”

The Pod remained silent for a few seconds, seeming to process an answer.

“Analysis: ‘White’ as a standalone property is the lightest colour in the spectrum, and is achromatic. In the form of a pigment, it reflects all wavelengths of light.”

Jackass shook her head. Bloody textbook recitations. It was as though there was no real intelligence behind those words.

“What does White mean to you, taking into consideration your internal data?” Jackass corrected.

“‘White’ is the original owner of the data provided by YoRHa unit ‘Jackass’. The earliest record of said owner comes from the year one-nineteen-thirty-nine.”

Pod 253 settled on the table again. “Using the total value of two hundred and fifty-three, the word ‘white’ can be derived using hexadecimal code values of fifty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty-four and forty-five. End analysis.”

The words tore into Jackass with the viscerality of a sword blow, so much so that her previous suicide attempt felt like a miniscule slap on the wrist. 

White –  _ Pod 253 _ – did not possess a clear sense of self. Not in the way that an actual  _ person _ would, anyhow. It was merely using White’s salvaged data. But its speech mannerisms were unlike those of typical Pods. 

Jackass slumped in her chair, her gaze fixed upon the sand-strewn floor.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Pod 253 is a tactical support unit now assigned to YoRHa unit ‘Jackass’.”

“C-could you—” Jackass cut off the rest of her sentence with a sigh. 

She wanted the Pod to call itself White. She wanted to  _ command _ it to rename itself as White. She wanted her best friend back. 

But not like this.

A quiet chuckle left her, then the grief returned full force, slamming into her chest as though she’d been bowled over by a speeding vehicle. The answer was right in front of her. Nobody else would cram lines of data into different machines, expecting this to resurrect them. 

Or rather, nobody tried in fear of reaching this horrible conclusion.

White was gone. She was no more than a memory to those who bothered to remember. And now, her existence has been reduced to meaningless noise within a matrix. Just like Rose, just like the countless other androids who perished alongside her.

But to Jackass, only White’s death mattered. Nothing else could ever compare.

“I promised you... just like old times.” Jackass pressed a fist against her lips, forcing down the agony that swirled within her. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

“What is the meaning of this question?” Pod 253 queried as if nothing was wrong.

Maybe the Pod was right, Jackass thought. Everything was as it should be. Making any alterations would still change nothing.

“Pod? Come here.”

The Pod floated closer, hovering at her eye level like it trusted her. Like White trusted her all those years ago. 

Jackass let out a lone, choked sob.

For the umpteenth time, she had failed that trust. She wasn’t good enough to fix the data or save White before YoRHa’s demise. The possibility that the Bunker could go up in flames hadn’t even occurred to her.

Jackass took hold of the Pod and pulled it close to herself. Its claws shifted around, scrabbling for purchase against her shirt. This caused the wounds on her abdomen to flare up in pain, but she didn't dare push the Pod away. She wasn’t ready to do that yet.

“Query: What is the reason for this action?”

Upon hearing this, Jackass felt her muscles tense up, almost as though they were wound up into a coil. Her teeth sank into the tender flesh of her lip, and the taste of iron flooded her mouth.

“I... don’t know,” she eventually replied.

 

* * *

“Query: What is the benefit of living independently of other androids?”

Jackass lifted the screwdriver away from her latest project and turned her attention onto Pod 253. “You don’t have to deal with pushy superiors.”

“Why would superiors be pushy?” The Pod persisted.

“If I had to tell you, we’d be here all day.”

Pod 253 had become rather inquisitive over the recent months. It had started off by questioning the logic behind choices, before moving on to societal customs and how those worked. There was a clear progression in its attempts to understand emotion, too.

When it wasn’t being philosophical, Pod 253 was pleasant company. Something Jackass hadn't realised she missed. There weren’t many androids who could stand to be around her for a single day. Pod 253, on the other hand, remained ever-faithful by her side, filling the silence with its helpful chatter.

Jackass lifted up her project for inspection. It was a newly restored Type-4O sword, plus a few modifications. Though she’d found it some time ago, only in recent times – along with the company of Pod 253 – had she bothered to fix it. Or do anything productive, really.   


“The servomechanisms appear to be operational, and the risk of combustion is now at zero percent. The elaborate gear was a good reparation choice,” the Pod stated.

Despite using the late Commander’s voice, Pod 253 still wasn’t –  _ could never be _ – White. As time passed, this bothered Jackass less and less.

“Is YoRHa unit Jackass intending to use the blade for combat purposes?”

Jackass shrugged, setting the sword down on the table. “Well, yeah. That’s what it was made for.”

“Against what type of enemy?”

“Machines. Is there something wrong with that?”

Pod 253 clasped its claws together, seeming hesitant. “This unit is concerned that you will use it in a risky manner, one that may compromise your health further.”

Jackass reached over and patted Pod 253 lightly on its head. “Nah. I told you, I ain’t hunting anymore. I won’t attack unless they do it first. And I'm fine. I won't randomly combust.”

“This unit would be better assured once proper maintenance has been completed.”

Jackass couldn’t help her hum of amusement. That almost sounded like an expression of concern.

She knew one thing for certain: the situation was nowhere near as grim as before. Her reasons to live had been revitalised. Instead of chasing a ghost, she had a new and beneficial relationship to pursue.

“Well, that’s our next project then.”

White would always be her dearest friend. The memories they shared, both good and bad, had shaped Jackass into the android she was today.

However, dwelling on the past made it difficult to look ahead.

White would have wanted her to find peace. Even during their YoRHa days, she always did keep Jackass’ happiness in mind. And to honour that intention, Jackass would move forward. While a part of White would remain ever-present in Pod 253, it was a different person altogether, one no less cherished.

A new friend.


End file.
